Beneath Your Beautiful
by BurntBreadAndShinyPearls
Summary: He holds a tortured darkness within him, unseen to everyone except Katniss Everdeen. Curiosity and compassion soon take over her, and she finds herself wanting to learn about Peeta Mellark's dark secrets and just what's hidden behind his haunted eyes. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hello all of you lovely people who decided to check out this new story!_

_So, I thought it would be awesome to write a story about Katniss being the one that is chasing after Peeta, in a sense. This story will have a darker side to Peeta, and I'm really excited to show all of you this side of Peeta. Both Katniss and Peeta will be slightly OOC here and there, but I won't stray too much._

_This story will definitely get dark at some points, and you don't see it in this first chapter, but you will in chapters to come. If you all like this story after reading this chapter, I'll try to make the chapters longer._

_I totally came up with this title before I even knew it was a song, but then I heard the song like last week and it kinda fits._

_**I don't own The Hunger Games**__, and I hope you all enjoy this! Please, pretty please, take the time to review your thoughts on this first chapter, and maybe even hit the follow and favourite buttons if you wish!_

* * *

The late autumn winds bite at my cheeks, sending chills down my spine through my jacket. The grey clouds block the sun from shining down, the feel of winter creeping up quickly. My breath comes out in faint white puffs while I trek across the town square in hopes that the store hasn't closed yet.

Thankfully, when I try the door, it opens with a chime and I quickly walk down the aisles, looking for the bag of white chocolate chips Madge instructed me to get. I'm not even complaining about the price for it; as long as Madge bakes and Prim loves her birthday cookies, then I'm happy.

My eyes land on the bag of chocolate, alone and clearly the last bag, and before my fingers can even brush against the bag, it's snatched away. I turn on my heel to cuss out the person who stands in my way of Prim's perfect birthday-

But the words die in my throat with a look at the blue eyes looking down on me. They look like they once used to be bright and alive, not this haunted look. The guy in front of me looks handsome, even past the purple bags under his eyes and the odd clumps of blond hair sticking up as if he had just gotten out of bed.

"Oh...sorry. I didn't realize you were reaching for these," the guy says with sheepish shrug, his voice is croaky yet soft and warm. He shifts from foot to foot, then sticks the bag out towards me. "Here, take it."

His eyes, holding a slightly tortured look, draw me in and I find myself shaking my head. "No...no. _You_ had them first, so _you_ take it."

"Well...I don't need a full bag, so we can split it?" He tugs at the zipper of his sweater and looks at me imploringly. I shrug, _it is a good deal._ A small smile tugs at the stranger's lips. He nods towards the checkout and I follow a step behind him, wondering if this is really a good idea.

The cashier rings up the bag of chocolate chips, totalling out to six dollars and forty cents. I dig through my pocket and pull out four dollar bills, holding them out to the cashier. The blond guy shrugs my hand away and I scowl at him.

"_I'm_ paying for _my_ half," I say and push his hand away.

"Technically, I'm giving you half of _my _bag." He gives a sly smile that seems out of character with his haunted eyes. "If you really want to pay me back...then donate to this organization." He points to the small canister beside the register, and I eye him skeptically. "I was going to put a few dollars in there anyway, so if you do it, it'll be exactly the same."

I fold the bills in my hand, contemplating his deal. It does make sense to donate, not only because it's a good thing to do, but the three dollars I saved him would end up going there anyways. I sigh, giving in, and stuff the bills into the canister. I read the label quickly; something about a help group for scarred teens.

"Thanks," the guy says to the cashier, then asks for a plastic shopping bag. I give him a look. "Where do you suppose we put the other half of the chocolate?"

Usually I'd find his sarcastic remark irritating, but with this complete stranger, it feels okay. Almost amusing. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything and slowly make my way to the door with the chocolate-buying stranger following. I step outside, feeling the cool winds break through my jacket.

"Can you hold this bag open?" He asks, holding the store bag out to me, and I take it quickly. He rips open a corner of the chocolate bag, then begins pouring them into the bag I'm holding. "I'm Peeta, by the way." He tells me, not looking up from his pouring job.

"Katniss," I say back just as he stops pouring. I look between my bag and his, frowning. "Hey, this bag has way more-" I say, holding up my bag with a scowl, "and that's not fair. You bought them."

Peeta shrugs, halfheartedly, and looks at me for a moment before answering. "You donated to an organization in need...and that's worth more." And before I can argue, he rolls up his bag and stuffs it in his sweater pocket, giving me a slight wave. "Have a...good day."

Peeta turns around and walks down the sidewalk, glancing over his shoulder briefly to offer a small smile. I stand there dumbly for a few moments, then I tie the bag of chocolate chips and walk in the other direction.

* * *

"So you ran into a guy?" Madge asks with a raised eyebrow, mixing together the ingredients for Prim's birthday cookies, and I roll my eyes. Of course, only Madge would get that out of the whole story. "Was he cute?"

"Madge-"

"Oh, so, he _is_." She says with a snicker while turning in my direction. And it's times like this where I desperately hope for the quiet, reserved side of Madge to come back. But that Madge wasn't the real Madge...so I guess I have to put up with this one, though I can't deny I love her any less. "Tell me about him."

Tell her what? About a guy that I met for five minutes?

I sigh and set down the wrapping paper and turn in my chair to scowl. "I met him for five minutes, Madge."

Something pricks at the back of my mind, reminding me of his tormented eyes and the dark purple lines under them, and how his smile - something so small - seemed to have been brilliant at one point. But I can't tell Madge that, I've never thought like this and I certainly won't _admit _that I am. I don't even have the time to be thinking like this anyways, not with Prim and my job and making sure my mother functions properly.

"_Okaaaay,_" Madge singsongs, and I nearly cringe at the sound, a sound so high pitched and _girly. _It's basically foreign to "my species" of girl, as she would say. "Your mom working tonight?"

"Yup," I say with no means of hiding my anger. "Birthday's never change, she _knew _Prim's birthday was today, and she still didn't take the day off. She just doesn't care anymore, Madge."

Madge scoops spoonfuls of cookie dough on the greased baking sheet, casting a glance over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are sympathetic; she's known about my mother and her emptiness ever since it happened six years ago. I still haven't come to terms with it.

"When does Prim get home from school?" Madge asks, deflecting the subject to something else, which I'm thankful for. I mumble something along the lines of "four o'clock" while concentrating on the last fold of wrapping Prim's gift. "So we'll give her the cookies and presents, then she's off with her friends all night?"

I was originally a little disappointed that Prim wanted to spend her birthday with her friends, but then I realized she just turned fifteen and doing things with her friends would be a lot more fun than hanging out with me.

"Yeah, Rue and the group have something planned for her."

"Since you're going to be a loner tonight, why don't we do something? There's that new museum?" Madge slides the cookie sheet into the oven and sets the timer before turning to me with a raised eyebrow that quickly turns into a frown. "Wait - museums are boring...how about that _Guy'sPizzeria _just down the street? We haven't gone there in years."

I try to remember the local pizzeria down the street, one that's been in this city for years, and I vaguely remember it being on the same lot of the store I went to earlier. But for the life of me, I can't place what the inside looks like anymore.

"Uh...yeah, I guess we could do that."

Madge lights up with happiness and claps her hands together excitedly. "Awe, look at us, going on a Madge and Katniss pizza date!"

"_So exciting,_" I say with a roll of my eyes, but I can't suppress my small chuckle at Madge.

* * *

"Oh my God, you didn't!" Prim squeals happily, pushing away the wrapping paper with a smile so bright it could light up the world. I smile, happy to see my sister so ecstatic. She holds the box up, reading every tiny print and tracing the cover picture. "A laptop!"

The night shifts, holiday shifts, every _extra _shift I ever took over the last few months, feels greatly rewarding all with just the simple smile on Prim's face. She had been talking about wanting a laptop here and there - she was just too modest to come right out and say it.

"Well, you _are_ in high school and I hate how you always have to use mine, so I got you your own. I hope you like the one I got-"

"Are you kidding? I love it, Katniss! Thank you _sooooo_ much!" Prim sets the box down and practically tackles me into a hug. Madge chuckles from the couch; it's perfectly normal for Madge to be here, she's basically a second sister to Prim. Prim pulls away and turns to Madge. "Thanks for making the cookies! They were awesome - well, far better than what Katniss could ever bake."

I send a half-serious scowl at Prim with a light push to her shoulder. "Take the rest with you when you go out."

She glances down at her small watch, her blonde hair falling out from behind her ear, and she looks back up with a smile. "Rue's probably waiting outside right now. I'm just going to put this-" she picks up the laptop box and stands up, "in my room and then head out. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, Little Duck," I say with slight nostalgia; Prim is no longer the young girl with two braids and dress-up dolls. Now she is a teenager, with flowing blonde hair and make up and perfume.

"_Katniss,_" she scolds me, hating my nickname for her. Old habits die hard.

"_Primrose,"_ I mock back and stifle a laugh when she attempts her glare. I roll my eyes and make a shooing motion with my hand. "Get going. Have a good birthday, Birthday Girl."

Prim smiles. "I will, thank you. I love you, Kat."

And Prim's the only person I'm certain I love, besides Gale and Madge, too. "Love you too, Duck."

* * *

Madge moans and takes another bite of her slice of pizza. "I forgot how good pizza was," she mumbles through her hand covering her mouth, and I laugh while taking a small bite out of mine.

"When's the last time you had any?" I ask, looking around over the restaurant and its plush yet worn booths, the paintings of tomatoes and cheese and _italian_ things.

"I don't remember, all I know is that it has been way too long."

"Of course," I say with a chuckle and take a sip of my water. "How's it going with Gale?"

A blush comes across her cheeks and she ducks her head. "Good...but is he always so...so-"

"Unreadable?" I supply and she nods. "That's how he is. After a while he'll open up."

The day Gale asked Madge on date - just last week - was one of many emotions. I was happy that Madge was showing interest in a nice guy, different from all the other assholes she's dated. But then again, Gale and Madge are my two best friends and I felt protective over both of them, so-

The door of the restaurant chimes with a new customer, and out of habit my head turns in the direction. My eyes land on a familiar guy, the same one from just a few hours ago. His hair looks like he's brushed it since, and I feel a jolt run through me when his hollow eyes land on me. A smile lights up his features, returning a bit of light to his blue eyes.

Peeta looks between the order counter and the booth I'm at, a hesitant look about him, while biting his bottom lip. I feel Madge kick my leg under the table, and I give her a side glance. She nods at Peeta and widens her eyes, asking silent questions.

"Madge," I warn and kick her back.

When I look back, I find Peeta gone. But it doesn't take me long to spot him at the counter, talking to one of the servers. The server holds up his hand, and I hear him say "five minutes". Peeta nods and shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. He looks over his shoulder, like he did earlier today, and catches my eye. I look away quickly, feeling stupid for staring at him.

"Who's _that?_" Madge questions quickly, eyeing me. "He's so pretty!"

"Pretty?" I echo with a raised eyebrow. _He's not pretty, he's haunted, _I want to say. His eyes hold it all, even after five minutes I could tell there was something about him - I'm not sure what it is, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it peaking my curiosity.

"Katniss, right?" I turn my head, having not heard or notice him walk up. His eyes - blue and troubled - flicker around nervously, not resting on anywhere for too long, especially me.

"Yeah, and you're chocolate chip guy, Peeta."

Madge coughs slightly, catching on and realizing this is the guy she asked me about. Peeta offers a small smile with something flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Madge, Katniss's friend." Madge pipes up and gives Peeta bright smile.

"Hi," he says bashfully, the smile still on his face, and Madge seems to see nothing wrong with it. Not that it seems so out of place with his dull eyes and purple bags. I find myself watching him while he's not looking and something is compelling me to get to know him.

Peeta looks back at me quickly, then his eyes dart away, almost as if he can tell I can see right through him. Through his forced smile and his blue eyes.

"Is this, um, pizza place any good?" Peeta asks after a moment, his eyes focusing on the pizza in front of me. "I've been here a whole year and I haven't been to this place yet."

Thankfully, Madge answers for me. Even though I feel like I want to know more about this mystery Peeta, I'm not big on talking. It's never been me, I guess. Prim got our father's talkative genes, or so I've been told.

"Oh, so you're new around here? Whereabouts do you live?" Madge asks surreptitiously shooting me a smirk, like she thinks she's helping me out somehow.

"Just, ah, down the street from here. Snow Road." This guy is so nervous and shy in contrast to the joking guy how gave my half of his bag of chocolate chips.

Madge sits even straighter, nodding with a smile. "Yeah, that's a few streets away from Katniss. She lives on Capitol Drive!"

Peeta switches his gaze to me briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. "I walk my dog down that street-" the server calls out and Peeta turns as the server holds up two pizza boxes, "oh, that's my order. Nice to see you...maybe I'll see you when I walk my dog."

He turns on his heel and grabs the boxes from the server after paying, then he quickly leaves the restaurant, this time without a glance back. I look at the door, even after he's long gone. I wrack my brain for reasons as to why I feel so drawn to Peeta. _Why?_

Not once have I ever really thought twice about a guy, let alone a stranger. Even after meeting Gale, I had never thought much over him. Maybe a few simple thoughts, but nothing like this, where I found myself really wanting to know about him.

"Better keep your eye out for any cute dog walkers." Is all Madge says with a smirk, making me more confused.

I never had time for this before, I never had time to worry about guys before. I was too busy taking care of Prim when my mother immersed herself in her work once my father died and I was old enough to care for Prim without her help. But now...now Prim's a teenager, she seldom needs me as much and I have free time that I'm not used to having. Madge says it's good for me - it'll help me live a life with less worry and stress.

But once again, old habits die hard.

I can't help but stress and worry over Prim now that she is older, too. Lots of new things will come to her, some good and some bad, and I have to be there for her just like I was when she was a young girl.

My thoughts start to swirl together, making me wonder how I went from thinking about Peeta to worrying about _worrying over _Prim. I sigh out loud and close my eyes.

_Stop. Worrying._

* * *

I wave goodbye to Madge from the front door before quickly closing it and sliding my jacket off. My eyes catch a faint light coming from the living room, and immediately my heart beat speeds up with anger. I march over to the living room, ready to berate my own mother for missing Prim's birthday, when I stop short at the sight of a man sitting next to her on the couch.

My mother looks up, plastering a smile to her worn face. "Katniss, dear-"

"Who the hell is _this?_" I snap, pointing at the guy with dark hair and glasses. "So, you're able to cuddle up with some guy, rather than spending time with your youngest daughter on her birthday? Do you even care anymore?"

"Katniss, you know I had to work-"

I cut her off again, my anger growing. "And you've known Prim's birthday for the last fifteen years, so don't act so innocent! You knew today was her birthday and you didn't even get her a fucking card!"

"_Katniss,_" my mother hisses, showing the first sign of parenting I've seen in the last six years. "There is a guest here, and you will _not_ speak that way."

"It's too late to start acting like a parent," I say evenly, my anger being replaced with coldness. Her male friend shifts uncomfortably and I look over his pudgy form with disdain. "And no matter how hard you try, _Mother_, you'll never replace Dad."

Not caring that I've been rude, I whip around and quickly go up the stairs and slam my door without a single regret. I close my eyes tightly as I lay down on my bed, willing every thought to disappear from my mind. All the thoughts of my mother, my father, Prim, and even newly met Peeta.

After a few minutes, the thoughts slide away into the back of my mind, leaving the inside of my eyelids black...except for a pair of blues eyes, the blue making the irises look like they're filled with shards of glass, each shard holding part of a secret that's causing the haunted look in such gorgeous eyes.

The blue eyes stay in my thoughts even as I feel myself slipping into the realms of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/n: Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and decided to follow/favourite and review! I appreciate it so much. _

_I do not own The Hunger Games._

* * *

The days following my outburst at my mother have been thick with tension and silence. I can't stand her, that grew into something close to hate when Prim came home yesterday morning and a birthday card and present were waiting on her bed. _Of course_. Of course my mother went out and got something for Prim after I called her out on it. She only wants people to think she cares.

And I hate that Prim is so easily deceived by it - she's still too naive and caring and forgiving. I don't even think she's capable of hating or disliking someone, especially her own mother.

"Girl, what has got you so distracted today?" Mags says, leaning over the purchase counter. I shrug, pretending to be distracted by the books in front of me, and appreciatively, she leaves it alone with a quirky smile. "It's closing time, you know. Stop working, girl."

Finnick, one of the other employees, hops over the counter while grinning at me in all his glory. I'd be lying if I said he wasn't the most gorgeous guy I've ever met. With his golden hair - a tinge of copper in it - and deep sea green eyes and perfect physique. I wouldn't be surprised if had, in fact, been pulled out of a Greek God's book.

"Help me unload the new boxes of books in the back?" He asks kindly with no flirtation for once. Taken aback and not in a rush to get home, I slowly nod and follow him through the store, weaving past bookshelves. He lightly kicks a stack of boxes with the toe of his shoe. "I figured _The Mortal Instruments _would get popular once the first movie came out."

My eyes catch the stamp on the boxes, _TMI._ I read the first book, _City of Bones_, for the purpose of seeing what the hype was about. But of course, I couldn't not read the rest of the series - it's a silent rule that you continue reading until the end, as Finnick had said when I first met him.

"Does that annoy you, Finnick?" I ask with a mocking smirk.

He pulls a pen out of his back pocket and drags it over the tape on the box, slicing it open. "_Yes._ I understand seeing the movie and wanting to read the books...but half of these people don't really get the beauty of books, you know? All they'll see is what they saw in the movie when they read. Not what their imagination would allow them to see if they read the book first."

I raise an eyebrow, having never heard Finnick speak this passionately about _anything_. "Whoa, did you write that down and say it over until you memorized it?"

He cracks a small grin, his white teeth gleaming, and begins pulling box sets of _The Mortal Instruments. _"Nope. Spoke from the heart."

"Passionate," I say with a chuckle and begin helping him carry a stack of the box sets out to the front table that was cleared for these books. "Let me add that to my list of words describing you."

"You keep a list with words that describe me?" Finnick asks while looking over his shoulder. "That's either flattering or creepy. I'm not sure which one yet."

I laugh quietly, setting my stack and spreading it amongst the table. Finnick slides his on the shelves below the table, making sure the titles show clearly.

"Don't flatter yourself, Finnick. I don't have a list," I say back and head back into the stock room. Finnick's loud footfalls follow me. It's easy joking with Finnick, he doesn't take anything too seriously, and when _I _do, he's ready with another joke to ease the tension.

"Katniss," he says, looking up at me through the hair that sweeps across his forehead. "Would you ever, you know, go on a date with me?"

I stop mid-motion, staring at him with blank eyes. Sure, Finnick is undeniably good looking, but I'd never date him. He feels like my best friend or brother. And the thought of dating him makes me uncomfortable - I have never been good with guys...well, I don't even have experience with them, anyway.

"Um," I say slowly, watching his charming confidence ooze out of him. "I don't...We're like...I don't date really. And me...you...no."

Instead of his smile faltering, it only grows wider and he breathes out. "Okay, good! I just wanted to make sure you didn't think of me like that. I am irresistible, you know."

My face contorts and I scoff with a roll of my eyes. "So you _ask me out_, instead of just asking if I liked you? Well done, Finnick."

"Hey, what can I say? Gotta keep everything interesting!"

I roll my eyes feeling slightly relieved. Finnick may be good looking, but he's a flirt. Or at least, that's what I've gotten over the last year. He watches me curiously for a few moments before his brows furrow and the corners of his perfectly shaped lips curve down.

"What?" I ask briskly, crossing my arms.

"You don't date?" He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his blue hoodie ripple as it tightens over his shoulders. His head shakes slightly. "You're extremely gorgeous, Katniss, and you're telling me you've never dated? Ever?"

"Uh, no," I say abruptly and pick up more book sets before I brush past him.

Finnick's different than me. Where I lack confidence and outgoing-ness, he has tons of it. I don't have the social tact and charm like he does. It's easy for him to seem incredulous about me not dating, but for me it's normal. I've never been asked out in my life - though Madge seems to think it was because I scared off the guys with my scowl. She could be right.

"For the record," I hear Finnick's voice comes up behind me as I put the sets on the shelves under the table. "I think any guy would be lucky to ask you out. And that's a completely platonic comment."

I feel a laugh bubble up in me, and stand up to face him. He smirks, his green eyes shining in the overhead lights of the bookstore. "That's nice of you to say, Finnick."

"Nice enough to get an invite for some coffee after this?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Thought you weren't asking me out, Odair."

"Don't flatter yourself, _Everdeen._ I've got my eye on a different brunette, thank you very much." Finnick retorts back with his pleasing smirk.

"Who?" I ask, staring at him curiously. "How about you ask her to coffee. I need to get home - taking the bus when it's dark is never fun."

"You know...Annie." And for the first time, I see a blush spread across his cheeks. My eyes widen. Annie is so sweet and shy, and Finnick's so..._not_. "I'm leaving, so I'll give you a ride."

"Annie, like the girl who comes in here every week?" I ask, disregarding his last statement.

Finnick nods, clearly embarrassed. "Will you get your stuff so we can leave? _Pleaseee._"

* * *

"I think I'll talk to her tomorrow," Finnick says thoughtfully, coming to a stop as I point out my house. I grab my bag from the floor of his truck, smirking at him as I do.

"Too bad I'll miss it." He gives me a confused look and I shrug. "My day off tomorrow."

Finnick curses under his breath and looks at me - almost as of he were scared. "_What?_ Who's going to be my wing-woman, then?"

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I wouldn't have helped you to begin with."

He laughs, loud and heartily, one of the things I like about him. I didn't think I'd ever like Finnick, but he's quickly becoming a good friend. He _is _a great person past his cockiness. "That's what I figured you'd say."

"I'm glad we're on the same page now. Thanks for the ride, by the way." I pull on the door handle, then push open the heavy door, sliding off the seat. I land on the ground with a light thud. "You work on Tuesday?"

Finnick nods. "Yeah. I work everyday, except the weekend coming up. Not all of us are fortunate to have Monday off." His smirk lights up his face once again.

"Not all of us get the weekends off either." I quip back, closing the door before he can reply. He honks his horn twice before driving off down the street. The sun's quickly disappearing below the horizon, bathing the city is a pink-orange glow.

I turn on my heel, beginning to walk up the pathway to the front door, when movement down the block catches my eye. A dog - a Siberian Husky - with white fur around its face and underbelly, a dark grey, almost black, tinge covering the rest. It's just a small little puppy, running around the sidewalk and sniffing everything excitedly.

It looks up from inspecting a twig, its baby blue eyes landing on me. Small little barks escape its mouth, the tail wagging nonetheless. The puppy starts running forward, only to be held back by the leash in the owner's hands.

And my heart skips a beat when my eyes recognize those haunting blue eyes and blond hair. The left corner of his mouth curves up slightly and he gives a small, timid wave. Whether he realizes it or not, his pace picks up slightly and he's just a few feet away in five seconds.

"Hey there," Peeta says, red staining his cheeks - either from the cold or embarrassment.

"Oh, hi." I say back, not quite sure how to act around him. Whining comes from my feet, and I look down at the puppy. It gives an excited yelp as I crouch down and tentatively reach a hand out.

"His name is Bandit," Peeta says while crouching down, too. He runs a gentle hand over Bandit's soft fur, his tail wagging back and forth with all the attention.

I scratch behind his perked up ears and his blue eyes close with delight. "So you really do walk your dog down this street."

Peeta's cheeks turn an even darker shade of red and he avoids my eyes. "Would it be weird if I said I've walked him down this street three times today?"

"Well, it depends. Why would you do that?"

His eyes flicker up to mine, the beams of sunset add a little light into his light blue eyes. "Ah...do I need to answer that?"

I may have been clueless to how Gale felt about me when we were sixteen, but right now I'm very aware of Peeta's reasoning. It sends a rush through my veins, one that unnerves yet warms me in an unknown way.

"He's really cute," I admit, motioning to the puppy that has abandoned sitting up and is now laying on the sidewalk.

Peeta laughs and rubs the puppy's belly. "Yeah, he is."

"How old?"

"Seven weeks," Peeta says. Close up I can see the faint freckles across his nose and his incredibly long, blond eyelashes that touch his cheek when he blinks. "How was the pizza from two days ago?"

"Um, good, I guess. Yours?"

Peeta gives a laugh, one that doesn't hold much humour behind it. "I didn't have any. It was, uh, for my brother."

"And he didn't let you have any?" I ask with slight disbelief. I couldn't imagine making Prim get pizzas for me and then not letting her have any. You should always look out for your siblings. His look tells me what I thought, and I shake my head. "That's awful...well, you have to go there. It's really good."

"Well...um...maybe you'd like to go sometime soon? As two people who shared a bag of chocolate chips." He fidgets with the collar around Bandit's neck, not meeting my gaze. "It would feel weird to go alone and I don't exactly have friends."

I stand up, feeling the cramps in my legs. My curiosity has always gotten the better of me - and Peeta is no exception. In fact, my curiosity is so peaked, that I feel myself wanting to say yes and get pizza with him.

"Okay. I wouldn't want you sitting alone," I say with a seriousness. "I work Tuesday through Saturday until eight at night."

"So tomorrow...you're off?" He asks, standing up. I nod and he bites his lip. "Okay...well I work until noon, so I can meet you there for twelve-thirty?"

I nod and play with the bag strap across my chest. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow, then." I lean down and pet Bandit before taking a few steps backwards. "Bye, Bandit."

"Tomorrow," Peeta says quietly, so quiet I almost didn't hear him.

* * *

I had set off for the pizzeria at twenty after twelve, and checking my phone as I walk into the warm building, tells me the cool November wind had prolonged my walk to almost fifteen minutes.

A head of blond hair in the corner catches my attention. His eyes are downcast as he plays with one of the black napkins, folding and unfolding it. I unzip my leather jacket while walking over to the booth. He doesn't hear me walk up, so I slide into the other side of the booth.

"Hey, Peeta."

His head snaps up and a tiny smile lights up his face. "Oh, hi."

"You know what you're going to get?" I ask and point to the menu beside him. I notice the bags under his eye aren't as prominent as they were when I first saw him. They're still there, just not as dark as before.

"I always get pepperoni. It's traditional." His eyes flutter slightly and he sneaks a look at me beneath his incredibly long eyelashes.

"Me too," I say and shrug my jacket off, pushing it to the end of the booth. A server comes up, filling our glasses with iced water. He looks to me first, asking what I'd like. "Just two slices of pepperoni pizza."

He nods and scratches it down on his notepad. Peeta orders the same and breathes out once the server leaves. I study him for a moment, before asking, "Are you okay?"

He lifts his hand and runs it through his blond hair, and I notice a patch of white - flour? - on the cuff of his sleeve. "I'm fine. Just...tired."

I nod, not believing his answer, but I've just met him, so who am I to call him out on it? By his averting gaze, I can tell he knows that I caught it. It's a weird feeling I'm getting between us, a feeling like we know each other like friends would, though I've only just met him. "What's that on your sleeve?"

Peeta looks down at his sleeve, eyeing the white patch with a chuckle. "I work in a bakery - my dad's bakery, actually. It's just flour."

So Peeta bakes? I look at him with interest, but my gaze of curiosity is disrupted by the server placing down our plates. He wishes us a good meal before leaving us again. Peeta eagerly picks up one of the slices and takes a bite.

I watch in amusement as his eyes close and he swallows with a quiet sigh. I chuckle and pick up my own slice. "Enjoying it?"

"Yeah," he says after opening his eyes, the blue seems to be a little bit brighter. They were captivating before, haunted and dull, but when they're brighter like this...they hold me in place, as if Medusa herself turned me to stone.

I nod and begin eating my own pizza, too scared to look back into his eyes in fear of losing myself once again. I can't think like this, he's just a guy. And I don't have time for him because Prim needs me to help her since our mother won't have time for any problems that come up. She never has.

But something about this guy, Peeta, draws me in. Maybe it's the wounded, tortured look in his eyes, or the handsome look about him, or even just that _thing_ about him - I don't know what it is yet.

"Either you were really hungry, or just an exceptionally fast eater."

I snap out of my thoughts, quick enough to catch a smirk on Peeta's face. I only saw that semi-smirk in the store, and seeing him smirk makes my stomach twist involuntarily. The smirk on his face is boyish and cute, and it makes my original decision to stay away seem like a far off thought.

"It's okay, I'm done too," Peeta says holding up his plate with just two crusts left.

"You don't like the crust?" I ask and Peeta shakes his head, his blonde hair falling a few centimeters short of his eyes. "Interesting." He takes a long gulp of his water and then sets the cup back down, once again avoiding my eyes. "If you're ever, um, walking Bandit and pass by my house feel free to say hi."

Who said I couldn't be civil and nice with him - even friendly? He seems like he doesn't get friendliness a lot, so why not show him what it's like?

His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before a silly grin appears on his face and his plays with the same napkin from earlier. "Oh...okay. Sure."

Not liking the hold he seems to have over me, I clear my throat and grab my jacket. "Um, I have to get home, though. My friend - the one from the other day - is coming over soon." I lie, hating the words coming out of my mouth and the disappointed look on Peeta's face.

"Oh, sure, yeah...that's cool. Thanks for making me feel less like a loser by going with me."

I slide out of the booth and slip my jacket on. "Maybe I'll see you and Bandit soon." And I walk over to the paying counter, handing the guy over money with change for a tip.

The cool autumn air hits me when I all but run out of the pizzeria, and it does nothing to clear my racing mind. When I glance through the window, I see Peeta sitting in the same spot, folding and unfolding the same napkin. With a rush of guilt and something else, I stalk off down the sidewalk with hopes of clearing my mind of Peeta.

* * *

"We got our mid-term report cards today," Prim says over a mouthful of salad. She may be an angel, but when she's in the privacy of our home...she's so _whatever she is._ But I love her anyway.

I stab an olive and bit of Feta cheese, raising an eyebrow at her. "Really? Let's see it." She reaches into her bag hanging over the back of her chair, drawing out a white piece of paper and sliding it over to me. My eyes scan over the page, mostly all of her marks in the 90's, except for one. "Eighty-five percent in Phys. Ed? Wow, Prim, you're slacking." I joke, handing the paper back to her.

"I know! I'm just not cut out for that lifestyle," Prim says back, glaring at the paper with hate. Our love for athletics could not be more different - Prim hates anything that involves getting your heart rate elevated, though she's thin as a stick, and I love sports and exercise.

I laugh and pull the paper away before it can combust into flames from her heated stare. "Calm down, it was a joke. Your marks are excellent."

A smile lights up her delicate features, but it fades when she looks down at her salad, nervously pushing around the bits of cucumber and tomato. "Do you think Mom will be proud?"

I stab the bits on my fork into my mouth to keep from scoffing out loud. The last time my mother showed interest in anything related to me and Prim was so long ago it almost seems like a dream now.

As much as I hate not speaking the truth, I hate hurting Prim more than anything. So I give a noncommittal shrug. "Who wouldn't be?"

"_Katniss,_" Prim snaps, her voice holding an anger I've never heard from her. "I'm not a little kid like I was before! You don't always need to avoid the truth, because I _don't need _protecting anymore." She grabs her bowl and fork, pushing her chair back and emanating a loud scraping noise.

Her words hit me like a slap of reality, a pain that hurts much more than the way a human hand would sting your cheek. It's like a bullet has just been shot through my heart, and my lungs drowned with water. _Prim doesn't need me._ Maybe I realized it before now, but I used to just think of it as a passing feeling. Not anymore. Prim's a teenager now, and as much as I hate to admit it, she's going to start needing me less and less. She won't need me to sing her to sleep, tuck her in, bring her a glass of water after a night mare.

"Sorry," I look up at the doorway of the kitchen, Prim standing there with a rueful half-grin. "I guess I'm a lot like you, huh? Short-tempered?"

I swallow a few times, trying to get the moistness back in my dry throat from the aforementioned realization. "No. You have much more patience than I do."

"In certain situations," Prim says thoughtfully, carefully taking her seat at the table again. "See, you can wait for an hour before catching a firefly, but I can't. But I have the patience to deal with stubborn people like _you. _You wouldn't - _haven't _lasted a minute trying to civilly argue with Gale."

A smile creeps up on my lips, thinking of all the arguments Gale and I have had over the last seven years of our friendship. Gale's fire is too much like my own - we can never just argue calmly, it will usually end with yelling.

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you," she says softly and her blue eyes look up into my grey. "It's just...you don't need to coddle me anymore. I can handle the truth, I don't want you tiptoeing around it, okay?"

"Okay," I resign, my older sister role seems lost now, and I push around the remains of my salad.

"Um...Katniss?" Prim asks, but doesn't wait for me to acknowledge her before continuing. "I know you've been taking care of me since you were twelve...but I want you to stop carrying that as your top priority. I'm not saying don't care about me - I'm just saying you should put yourself first once and while, do the things _you _want to do without thinking of me first."

"Prim, you're my little sister. I always think of you first."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't always want you to be like this, you know? You've got to do things for _you._ Not me."

I don't exactly remember the transition of Prim turning into such a mature, wise individual. She's slowly becoming a young woman, independent and wise.

"Okay, Prim." I say only to appease her. She gives me a skeptical look, narrowing her eyes slightly at my less than truthful agreement.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine. Really, if you actually _cared_ and put me first, then you'd take what I said into consideration. Isn't that right?"

I shove my bowl aside, matching her stare with a scowl of my own. "You're kidding, right? You didn't just use that against me."

Prim smiles sweetly, standing up from her chair once again. "Oh but I did." She flips her hair over her shoulder and turns around to leave, not before smirking, though. "Keep in mind what I said," she calls out once she's down the hall.

I get up and take my bowl to the sink, rinsing it with warm water while Prim's words swirl around my mind. I know she's thinking of me, but I'm thinking of _her._ But what if I'm coddling her too much? What if she'll end up hating me a year from now for being too protective? What if she starts to resent me for caring too much, like I resent our mother for caring _too little?_

My head starts to mildly throb with a dull ache, a headache coming on. Serves me right - from thinking about mysterious Peeta, to my mother and her ability to be the biggest screw-up, to Prim growing up.

I shut off the running water and go into the living room, turning on the TV and searching through our record shows. I hit play on last week's _Grey's Anatomy_ and curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket over me and hoping for my thoughts to go away as I engage in the show.

If only I could pause my mind like a television show.

* * *

_A/n: In this story I see Katniss show her compassion and caring side more than she might normally. Peeta and Katniss will start to fall more into character in the next few chapters._

_When the time comes, I'll give a warning when dark themes are mentioned in a chapter._

_Thank you to all of you guys who decided to read and give this story a chance! I'm excited to be writing and sharing it with all of you._

_Please review or PM your thoughts. I read and appreciate every review, follow, favourite and PM! _


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